A song for the Moon
by theladywithapen
Summary: fifteen years after Phantom. An orphaned violinist wonders into the abandoned Opera Populaire, drawn into the world of the mysterious Opera Ghost. As she comes face to face with the Phantom, she unearths her distant past, and by tries to mend two broken souls. Rated T, some E/C as well. Based mainly on the musical but with lots of bits from the book as well.
1. The Opera Populaire

**Hi everyone ^_^. This is my first fan fiction *glup* so I hope you enjoy, I am going to try and upload once a week. But I'm utterly unorganized, so don't hold me to it! This chapter is quite short, but I will try and write more each time I upload. Any criticism welcomed, happy reading everyone!**

Dust covered her worn boots as she wandered through the rows of moth-eaten seats; setting down her stained and battered violin case, a gasp escapes from her pale lips. This was it. The Opera Populaire, she had heard stories about this place, the music, the dances, the beautiful prima donnas and the Opera ghost that haunted the dark underground catacombs the lay in the cold bowels of the opera house. She placed a cold hand on one of the smooth mahogany of the stage and in one swift motion she lifted herself up onto the stage. A cloud of dust swirled around her, making her cough, no surprise to her through. The dust clung to everything in the grand hall, claiming every object that conveyed the glittering splendor of its past life. She had heard about the demise of the Opera Populaire, Parisians like to gossip often enough, it seemed, for what she had heard, that the opera's luck just seemed to run out, after the failed production of "_Don Juan Triumphant",_ the ballet mistress left, the prima donna left and half the cast had left. The opera mangers tried to continue, however the operas got terrible reviews, tickets didn't sell and the place quickly slipped into bankruptcy. Then the place was left abandoned, left for dead.

An idea slipped into her head. A stupid, childish one, but she smiled at the though. In one movement of her hand and a sharp snap of her case, she rested her pointed chin on the smooth, curved surface of her violin. Softly, slowly, gently, she began to play. At first it was a simple melody, just a little tune floating around on her head, but then she worked on it. Picking up the tempo of the song she melded it into a more complicated and sophisticated piece, her thick lashes covered her dark eyes as she flowed along with the music, enjoying the peace and serenity it gave her. She stopped playing as she heard the distant tolling of bells, opening her eyes she stopped, smiled, and gave a curtsy to an imaginary crowd. She stared for a while at the auditorium of the opera hours, imagining for all she was worth, the thick velvet sets and the richly dressed audience sitting there, _it must have incredible back in the day, _she thinks, awestruck. Returning to herself she quickly put her violin into its case and turned to her heel.

'Stop'

The words echoed and reverberated throughout the empty hall. She stopped in her tracks and tried to find the owner of the cold voice that uttered that single word.

'Who is it? Who's there?' a figure emerged in one of the boxes, a tall, thin dark figure. It was definitely male; he was clad in a dark suit s and tails, with dark hair and golden gleaming eyes, with ghost white skin. She could only see his right profile, but he still was such a powerful figure, looming over her, she could tell he was no ordinary man.

'What is your name?'

He turned to face her and the dying light of the sun gleamed off the piercing white of the mask the covered the left of his thin face. Luna gripped her violin case, she new who this man was. The Opera Ghost.

To this day she will never know what possessed her as she gulped and uttered her name

'_Luna'_


	2. The choise

**Hi guys! Thanks for all the support for my first chapter, I know it was really short, but this one is longer. I am sorry at taking so long to write a new chapter (I know hoe annoying it is waiting for a story to update) but since my attention span is about this big holds fingers up about a centimeter away from each other* I really had to work hard. Anyway, I'm going to introduce Erik in this chapter, and you'll find out what he's been getting up to after all these years. P.s I just thought I'd let you know I spent most of the time trying to describe the music, its really hard trying to write about music that doesn't exist. But I hope you all enjoy it! **

_Erik POV_

Dust covered everything, the stage, the seat, and the box. Everything. Erik stared in disbelief at the stage; it had been fifteen years since he had last clapped eyes in this place. And the years had taken its toll, the carpets were moth eaten, the chandelier was rusty and the wooden steps were rotted. He was shocked to see the opera in such a state, but he didn't know what he was expecting. The place was dead; it was going to be knocked down that was why he had come back, to say goodbye to the place that had been his home for over half of his life. Now as he stood in box five: his box, he remembered everything. All the images of his past life came to him, holding him with their beauty; he remembered the opera's, the songs, the sounds, the words, the people, the cast and Christine. His heart gave a groan of pain at the thought of her; he remembered her face, her smile, her emerald eyes and her voice. _Stop, _he told himself _stop, you let her go. Don't hurt yourself further. _He was brought out of his thoughts by the sharp tap of footsteps, why was someone in here? This place was boarded up and deserted. He slipped into the shadows as a girl appeared, she couldn't have been much older than fifteen or sixteen. A thick curtain silky black hair fell to her waist, her pale skin gleamed in the suns vanishing light. She stopped in her tracks and stared, her dark eyes lost in thought. It was only after she stopped that Erik saw she had a battered violin case clasped in her left hand, a smiled flicked across her face. And with one quick movement the climbed up onto the decrepit stage, the planks groan in protest as she glided across the dust coated wood. With nimble finger she opened her case, revealing a sleek, dark and glimmering violin. Lifting her right hand, a bow accompanied the violin her dark eyes softened as she began to first it was a simple melody, sweet and pure but then she began to meld the music into a sublime piece of music. The music seemed to flow in the air, surrounding him and filling his soul with a feeling of pure ecstasy. Nothing had made him feel like that since her… since his angle of music. Christine.

Finishing on a delicate note she lowers herself, into a graceful curtsy. Placing her elegant violin in it tattered home; she turns on her heel, without though, without reason, without consciousness he uttered a single resounding word

'Stop' whirling around in twirl of ebony hair she faced him

'Who is it? Who is there?' her darks eyes trying to find him, in a singular step he emerged form the shadows.

Her inky eyes bore into him as she examined him. Trying to ease her intense stare, turning to face her he asked

'What is your name?' her eyes filled with shock as she saw his mask.

'Luna'

His palms were sweating and his hearts was racing, was did this frighten him? He swallowed, he opened his mouth and asked her the same question he had asked Christine so many years ago

'Will you play for me?"

**Luna POV**

She blinked as if awaking from a dream

'You want me to play for you?' he nodded his head 'But-but' she stuttered 'you're a-a ghost' his thin lips twisted into a smile

'I night seem quite unnatural, but I am not a ghost'

'Oh' she pronounced, realising how stupid she sounded 'I'm sorry?'

'No need, girl, I've been called worse.'

'But Sir, where and what shall I play'

'I am one of the founders of the Oper von Engeln, in Vienna, Austria' Shock fill her ad he pronounced the word "Opera"

'A-a Opera!' she sputtered 'But-but why would you want me to play in an Opera?'

'Why?' he sounded shocked at her question 'don't you have years, girl? You a talent, the like of which I haven't seen in over fifteen years'

'Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to offend you' the hall was filled with a silence that was broken by the distant tolling of bells.

'Well?' He asked sternly "Will you go or not?' thoughts rushed around in her head _what if he was lying? What if he didn't like her in the end? What if she couldn't play on stage? _Then a feeling filled her, she didn't know why but something told her to trust this man.

'Yes'

He nodded and replied

'I will expect you within a month, otherwise I will presume you have changed you mind' and within a blink of an eye he was gone. She turned to go, and she new that a new fate awaited her. What fate? Your guess was a good as hers. But she was going; she was going to play at the _Opera of angles,_ she was going to play for the Phantom of the Opera.


	3. Oper von Engeln

**How is it going guys? This is the third chapter, to sum it up: Luna is going to Erik's Opera and I'm going to give Erik a bit more page time P.s I just wanted to let you guys know that the song I'm trying to describe is " Arriety's song" from the film "Arriety" if you wanted to give your imagination a boost you can listen to it here: watch?v=sc  
UyXaWMyAk. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! **

**Erik POV**

_Tick tock tick tock _Erik watched with lazy eyes at the black hand of the clock moved forward.

'Erik'. Silence. 'Erik!' Nadir slapped a tanned hand on the mahogany desk. R

aising his golden eyes to meet Nadir's brown

'What?' Erik growled.

'Were you even listening to me?' Nadir sighed.

Looking down at the sheet of music he was writing Erik picked up his ivory pen and jotted down a few notes

'You were angry about…something'

Nadir rubbed his temples in exasperation

'Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you…'

'You've managed to for over twenty years, a bit late to be going back now.'

Erik said, still scribbling

'For once, could you actually take me seriously?'

Nadir fell into a red velvet chair

' You do understand that you can't bring her here?'

'Why not, she agreed to it, it's not like I am kidnapping her'

'Why can't you ever understand reason?' Erik stopped writing and gripped the pen

'Yes, I completely understand your reason' Erik replied sarcastically

'you are angry because I met a talent musician, extremely talented, for the matter. And so I invited her here to perform because I know she will bring in a lot of people and she is perfect for the role in my new opera, which you are stopping we writing right now. Yes, I completely see your reason.'

'Need I remind you what happened the last time you had a pupil?'

Erik fists clenched and he gripped the pen so hard that his fingers turned bone white.

'This isn't like that... Christine was different' Erik hissed trough beard teeth

'Is it?' Nadir asked leaning forward. With a sharp crack the pen gave way under Erik's bony fingers and shattered into pieces

'now look what you've done...'

A sharp tapping at the door cut off Nadir.

Erik stood up and spoke 'Enter'

Omid slipped through the door, his green eyes spied Nadir 'Oh, hello Pedär'

Nadir smiled, if anything could calm him down, it was his son.

Omid was a cheerful and bright boy, with toffee skin and hazel green eyes;

he was the pride and joy of Nadir.

Clicking his heels together Omid snapped back to attention.

'I came here, because there is a girl to see you, she says she met you Paris'

Ignoring Nadir's harsh glare Erik replied

'What does she look like?'

'Tall and thin, with dark hair and eyes' Erik nodded

'Send her in'

After Omid left Nadir turned on his friend:

'Do you actually listen to anything I say or does it just go in one ear and come out the other?'

'Luna' Erik muttered. Nadir dark eyebrows met in a frown

'What?'

'It's her name'

'Whose name'

'The violinist, I thought if you're so bent on hating this girl you might as well know her name'

'Luna' Nadir mused 'odd name'

'She's an odd girl'

**Luna POV **

Luna couldn't stop fiddling with the frayed ends of her grey shawl, she kept on platting it, untying it and the re-platting it.

She knew why she was doing it, she was nervous. What if he changed his mind? What is she couldn't play? What would she do if he was turned away?

She didn't have any money left, and Vienna didn't seem like the type of city were people like her could survive easily.

The thick oak door opening, and the boy, Omid, walking out, interrupted her thoughts.

'He will see you' He smirked 'It's strange'

'What is?' she said standing up

'In the fifteen years that I've known him you are the second person to visit him from Paris'

'Who was the first?'

'Never you mind, now get in there or you'll be late'

'You don't have to talk to me like I'm a child' Luna muttered as she walked in

The room was dark and solemn with dark wooden floors and black floor.

A sleek ebony piano stood in the corner of the room; its icy keys shining in the dim, at the centre of the room stood an oaken desk and behind it stood two men. One was of medium height and build with dark eyes and tanned skin, like Omid.

And the other was the Opera ghost: what did he tell her to call him, again? Abendroth, she remembered. Through she had a feeling that it wasn't his actual name.

'Welcome, Mademoiselle Luna' the tanned man greeted her 'I hope your journey was comfortable'

'It was, thank you' she smiled at the man

'You may call me Daroga' he smiled

'and I understand you already met Herr Abendroth in Paris'

Luna nodded her head

'I am afraid through' Daroga continued

'there has been some misunderstanding; my college here invited you, without the proper procedures.

You see, we are a high functioning opera house, performers have to go through one or more auditions before they are formally hired, it is to make sure every member of our cast and crew are up to the highest standard possible, to give the best shows we can.'

Luna nodded feeling uneasy

'I see' she couldn't let this opportunity slip through her fingers, this was her one and only chance to fulfil her dream

'I could play for you right now, if you wanted' she blurted out

'like an audition, only not as formal' Daroga looked at Abendroth, who shrugged.

'I don't see the harm'

Daroga sighed

'If you will…'

'Would you like me to play the piece I played Abendroth, or would you like to hear something else?'

'Something else' Daroga answered ' I want to check your consistency.'

She nodded her brain franticly throwing together a few notes.

Her finger nimble, she unbuckled her case. Resting the violin on her shoulder she began to play

It was a quick tune, starting simple then evolving into something more unique and dynamic.

Her brain filled with the image of a sea, stormy and powerful and gentle and calm.

It was a long piece, but she felt it should be that way, her fingers glided across the familiar cold strings, her bow swinging across too.

Once she finished the piece she opened her eyes to find a Daroga wide-eyed and open mouthed in shock.

Was her playing really that bad? Did Abendroth just bring her here to humiliate her?

Abendroth smirked ad turned to Daroga

'And that is way I brought her here'

'Your hired' Daroga spluttered to life

'you are officially a member of the Oper von Engeln'


	4. Dreams

**Hey guys, I'm so sorry I couldn't write last week, I was ill but I going to try and make it up to you in this chapter. Just a quick warning: I'm going away to Switzerland next week so I won't be able to upload. BUT! After that I'm on summer holiday, so I will definitely be updating more often (maybe even twice a week). Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Luna POV**

Luna collapsed on the soft white bed, her black her spreading out behind her, in a cloak of rich ebony. After her audition with the two peculiar managers, she was whisked into a world so different from her own she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. First she was shown the opera hall by Omid, a great round room with a glass roof and a magnificent crystal chandelier, then she was shown her dressing room a light blue room with a shining glass mirror and a solemn oak wardrobe that was bigger than most of the rooms she'd spent her life in. And when she was told her salary, she almost fell to the floor.

There was a gentle tap at the door and Ellen; a brown haired and green-eyed English girl opened the door. She smiled and asked

'Is there anything you need?' Luna shook her head smiling, feeling awkward. Ellen was one of the singers in the opera and Luna was staying in her house until she could find her own. Ellen was a sweet and friendly girl, more than happy to welcome her into her snow-white house with a big red door, west of the Oper von Engeln.

Ellen sat down next to her

'I thought you could use this' she said handing her a soft piece on white fabric, Luna shook the fabric to find a loose, ill-shaped dress, a nightgown she remembered.

She'd heard how rich people changed clothes when they went to sleep, she'd even heard of one woman… what was her name again, oh, the Viscountess de Changey, who sometimes changed clothes three or even four times a day.

Ellen tried to make a conversation 'Is your luggage going to be delivered soon?'

'No' Luna shook her head 'I don't have any'

'But where are your clothes?'

'I'm wearing them'

'Oh' it was Ellen's turn to feel stupid 'then next Sunday we're going shopping, I know a glorious tailor by the promenade'

Ellen got up her round apple face flustered 'Good night'

_'Kushti ratti' _Luna muttered

Ellen stopped at the door 'Pardon?' she asked

'It means "good night"'

'Oh' Ellen smiled 'how interesting'

Luna washed her face, combed out her dark hair with her fingers and changed in the thin white nightgown; it was too small for her, No surprise really, for Luna was a man's height, sometimes even taller. It was embarrassing for both sides of the party when a man tried to woo her, only to find out that she towered over him.

She was too tired to care at the moment as she flung herself between the soft sheets and shut her heavy eyelids.

As she felt herself plunge into the warm black sea of sleep, colours appeared before her and faded until a vision appeared before her.

She was lying on some soft, smooth cream coloured material; she saw a slender, shapely woman sitting by a dresser combing out her long russet curls. She was singing, and god, her voice was beautiful, I was a slow gentle melody that seemed to float around her and embrace her. Music always meant something to her, but no piece of music had touched her before like this. Still singing the women turned to face her, and with long graceful strides, she walked towards her, Luna only had time to register a pair of big eyes as green as lush pastures, that show within unseen light.

Luna opened her eyes to the sound of gentle bells tolling, and the autumn sun shined through the thin curtains, it took her a moment to remember all that had happened to her, the Persian manger and his annoying son, the gentle Ellen, Madame Giry the stern ballet mistress, and her blonde haired daughter and the opera Ghost. The memory of his eyes, as golden as the sun, when they looked in your direction you could tell they not only saw your body but also your soul. She got to her feet, wonder filling her as she thought of her strange and glorious future.

**Erik POV **

Erik was dreaming again and he now remembered why he didn't like sleeping; because he dreamt of her, in his conscious mind he could try his best to ignore her, but in his sleep his sub-consciousness would pounce on him with images of her. Christine. He tried his best to wake up, but he was trapped by his own mind's turmoil, he thought of her with all five senses; he saw her emerald eyes and her russet hair, he felt the softness of her lips on his, he smelled the scent of lilies that always lofted around her, he tasted her name on his mouth and he heard her voice, the way she sang : there was something about it that lunged deep in his heart, twisting it, pulling out all the emotions, it was painful and beautiful no words could express how it made him feel.

Then suddenly he remembered her tearing off his mask, him dragging her down to the bowls of the earth, his cold hands on her tender neck.

He woke up with a start cold sweat trickling down his neck and back, he groped in the darkness like a blind beggar and his hands rested in a cold and grim glass, his hand tightened down on it and it shattered in his hands. He felt warm blood trickle down his hands and he cried out

'Christine'


End file.
